


Nothing to Fear

by sapphicpinup



Series: Back to Baker Street [2]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicpinup/pseuds/sapphicpinup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles about Olivia and Jonathan's respective childhoods (more or less a prequel to Back to Baker Street and its upcoming sequel).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blind Man's Bluff

"Olivia," said a stern, commanding voice. "Do you care to explain what happened this afternoon?"

The little mouseling sunk down in her chair, but her principal's disapproving eyes followed her. She looked up at her father, who was still awaiting her side of the story. "I bit Emmy," she mumbled.

Hiram raised his eyebrows curiously, "Emmy? But I thought she was your friend!"

"She is! She really is! I didn't mean to bite her, I just couldn't see it was her. Honest."

Principal Andrews looked bewildered, "Couldn't see? What couldn't you see?" But even Olivia couldn't quite explain what she meant to say.

It had happened during recess, as she and her classmates were engaged in a game of Blind Man's Bluff. Olivia had been tagged and, in accordance with the rules, blindfolded. Only nobody had a real blindfold to tie around the Blind Man's eyes, so a small burlap bag had to suffice. It was placed loosely over the head, but the fabric scratched against her face and all of a sudden she felt a twinge of terror rush through her.

"I couldn't see... through the sack." It wasn't entirely what she'd intended to convey, but she knew that any other explanation would only confuse the grown-ups more.

A good friend of hers, Emily Bernstorf, had noticed Olivia's irregular breathing and rushed over to remove the sack from her head, but Olivia couldn't tell who was there and the only image in her head was Professor Ratigan, so she felt the impulse to react as though it had really been him.

Once her vision was no longer obstructed, she began to steady her breathing, but nearly all of her peers had their gaze fixated on her and Emmy. Only then did the reality of the present sink back into her mind. She began to apologize, but the girls were quickly approached by their teacher, who demanded that Olivia answer for her actions.

"I- I thought she would hurt me," had been all she could muster at the time.

***

She was quiet on the way home, even as Hiram bombarded her with questions as to what could possibly have possessed her to behave in such a manner.

"You're a young lady, and you had ought to act like one!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy." She kept her eyes locked on the pavement below.

Hiram's expression softened. "Well it's in the past. There's no changing it now, is there. I'm sure Emmy knows you didn't mean it."

***

Olivia still reprimanded herself as she tried to sleep that night. Her fear had been in control, and she still didn't know how she could stop it if something like this were to happen again. Now she was afraid that her classmates wouldn't like her, and that her friends would still be upset with her.

But mostly she was disappointed in herself for being so deathly afraid of something that no longer existed - afraid of nothing.


	2. Poppycock

"And he went plunging down into the Thames! And so did his wicked henchman. All because of my Uncle Basil," Jonathan beamed as he recounted the harrowing story of the kidnapping of Hiram Flanchester to his school chums, standing atop the lunch table as though he was posing for a statue. He was met with murmurs of disbelief from the other children, but he knew his uncle wouldn't fabricate something like this (although, if Dr. Dawson was to be believed, it may have been slightly embellished).

"Oh, poppycock!" a voice rang out, turning several little heads. "I never heard of any robot queens or bats with peg legs."

Jonathan hopped down and faced the boy who'd dared to call his honesty into question, Peter Ryland.

"It's not poppycock! It was in the newspaper and everything. Queen Mousetoria gave him and his assoch- assos- his friend awards for it. He hung it up over his fireplace. I saw!"

Peter wasn't swayed, "Well how do we know your uncle really did throw a rat off of Big Ben? My dad's a constable and he says if someone did something like that they're a murderer."

"Ratigan was the murderer! He used to feed his other henchmen to his cat-"

"Then I bet he would throw someone into the Thames, too!"

Gasps were heard from the small crowd. Jonathan was starting to get flustered. "He was defending himself! And Mr. Flanchester, and Dr. Dawson, and that little damsel! My uncle's a hero, and I intend to be one, too." He turned up his nose, trying to emulate Basil.

"It can't be that hard to save a little girl."

He tried to hide the blood rushing to his face and raised his voice, "It is! He told me himself! He says the coward is the one who kidnaps the little girl. Your dad's a constable; he should know that, too!"

"He does. He catches men like that all the time. But it took your uncle years just to catch the one rat, if he even did!"

"Those men your dad catches can't be anywhere near as nasty as Ratigan; that's a fact."

"Are too!"

"Whatever," Jonathan recomposed himself and waved Peter off. "You're just jealous. I know it's true, every word."

And he did know. He'd spent enough time staying at Basil's apartment during his parents' business trips to know when his uncle was lying or telling the truth. And if there was one thing Basil had at least attempted to teach him, it was how to decide whether a villain was worth pursuing for too long.

Jonathan just straightened his back and sauntered back to his seat, resolving that this one wasn't worth it.

But someday he would meet one who was.


	3. Plainer Treasures

Olivia had been waiting all day long for her father to set out for the market, leaving her with a new sitter, since Mrs. Judson wasn't available to watch her. This sitter wasn't nearly as attentive as the old woman, so it was a perfect opportunity for the young girl to take a peek in Hiram's workspace. She waited for her sitter to get bored and immediately scurried into the other room. She pulled out a chair and climbed on top, opening a long drawer in the middle of the desk. She rummaged through a hodgepodge of odd-looking tools and nuts and bolts until she found an old ring left sitting on top a picture frame that was turned over, blocking whatever it displayed from view. She knew the ring must have been her father's wedding band, but the photo was a more pleasantly surprising find. When she flipped it over, she saw a young woman in the most elegant gown Olivia had ever seen, a thin veil hardly concealing her face. Her hair was done up and twisted into a bun, a familiar-looking comb stuck into it. She was looking demurely down at the bouquet in her hands, and Olivia couldn't help but wonder why she wouldn't look in the mirror that stood right there in front of her.

 _If I ever got to have a dress like that,_ the little one thought, _I'd certainly want to see myself in it._

She set the photograph aside when she saw the corner of a dingy old piece of paper, which looked like a page torn out of a book. Upon unfolding it, she faced a portrait of the same woman in the photograph, only in the sketch her hair was disheveled and she was grinning like a fool. At the bottom of the page was a handwritten caption:

_Jill - 29/4/1887_

Olivia would never know, but at that moment her expression matched that of the girl in the drawing. This was what she'd wanted to find all along, whether or not she'd specifically had this relic in mind. She never seemed to know what it was she was looking for while she was looking for it. She only took the things she discovered shoved into the back of the drawer, as though someone wanted them to stay forgotten. She put the picture frame back in its place, turned over so that Jill was unseen, and dropped the ring back on top of it. She then folded the drawing back up and shoved the drawer closed. In her enthusiasm, she left the door wide open, but that was the only evidence she'd ever leave of her presence in that room.

Back in her bedroom, she lifted open her trunk and pushed past her toys to find her collection of stolen tchotchkes:

A rusted wedding ring with its diamond missing (she had found the diamond separately, but decided to leave the gem with her father - she always left him the pretty things and kept the plainer treasures, save for one instance).

A silver hair comb decorated with three small jeweled flowers.

A small notebook bound at the spine with what appeared to be a shoelace (she'd made several attempts to read it in the past, but could never seem to make out Jill's handwriting).

A long-empty inkwell, monogrammed with the letters "CJB".

A torn-open envelope containing a letter that was about as legible to Olivia as the writing in the notebook.

A tiny angel doll (which she was sure hadn't been made by her father).

She set the drawing down in the pile, handling it delicately. Someday, when she'd finally gathered the gumption to mention anything about this to Hiram, she might know for sure what all these things had meant to Jill. But for now, she was content just theorizing and collecting at least a few of the answers piece by piece. It was fun to make a mystery of it.


End file.
